


THE TRUTH: Rorschach isn’t a jerk vigilante, he just needs to get laid

by secretidentity



Category: Watchmen
Genre: Alley Sex, Awkward Boners, Awkward Kissing, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Costume Kink, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Public Hand Jobs, Self-Denial, awkward everything, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretidentity/pseuds/secretidentity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the <a href="http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/813.html">Watchmen Kink Meme:</a> Rorschach starts becoming sexually attracted to Nite Owl, and as a result becomes increasingly angry and violent because of the repressed tension. This builds up to a scene where he grabs Dan and kisses him to prove that he's a horrible pervert, and when Dan doesn't push him away... things gets out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	THE TRUTH: Rorschach isn’t a jerk vigilante, he just needs to get laid

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2008 and lightly edited for archiving on AO3.

“That’s the third time this week, and it’s only _Tuesday._ ”

Rorschach looks down at his fist, fingers tightly curled around a petty thief’s collar. “Ennk.” Before Dan had stopped him, Rorschach had been punching the guy’s face into hamburger, smashing his knuckles against his bloody nose over and over and now that Rorschach’s stopped to look, he can tell that this thief is beyond unconscious. He hadn’t noticed - hadn’t been paying attention. Everything was red and black and pain and violence and now, now he opens his fist and lets the man drop to the ground - his body makes a wet slapping sound as he hits the concrete.

Rorschach pauses, wipes the blood on his gloves off using the man’s dirty shirt. The adrenaline is already wearing off and Rorschach feels the same twisting in his gut as he did before he started this fight. Damn it. Dan’s voice is inching through blood-red haze that is impeding his judgement, “You don’t need to knock these low-lives cold. What’s gotten into you? It’s not contagious, is it?” _Not contagious?_ Rorschach hopes to hell it’s not.

“Mistake.”

Even for Rorschach, this sort of behaviour isn’t normal. “Christ, maybe we should call a doctor for this guy.”

“He will feel better in the morning. Will have learned his lesson.”

Dan warily looks his partner up and down, “You know, if there’s anything bothering you . . . if you need to talk, I’m all ears.” The only reply Rorschach offers is a shifting, expressionless stare. Dan fidgets under the gaze of his inkblot eyes. “Ah, um. Archie is waiting. What say we call it a night?”

“Not tired. Go home alone.”

“R-right.” Rorschach begins walking quickly, and Dan does what he does best in this sort of situation; after a brief backwards glance at the bloodied criminal moaning on the ground, he falls into step behind Rorschach. They wind through filthy alleys and Dan keeps a sharp eye on the shadows. “Maybe it’s best if we head back anyway. The scourge of the Earth will still be here tomorrow.”

“Go ahead.”

“That’s not such a good idea. I won’t leave you alone when you’re like this, you could get in serious trouble.” Or worse, cause some serious trouble. Rorschach continues walking as if Dan hadn’t said a word, fedora low on his head and his shoulders hugging his ears. Even though his legs are far shorter than Dan’s, Rorschach’s steps are longer, faster and Dan has to hop-step to keep up.

“What are you _running_ from?”

“Nothing, Daniel.”

It’s difficult for Dan to maintain a conversation while trying to keep up with his partner, particularly when his partner is _purposefully_ making things more difficult. “Rorschach, you can talk to me about it. Whatever’s bugging you can’t be that bad.”

“Can’t be that bad.” Rorschach makes a grating sound that could be a laugh and stops dead in his tracks. He turns around to face Dan, pulling up the bottom hem of his mask and for a moment, Dan is _frightened_ \- he catches a glimpse of red stubble and then, and then.

Rorschach mashes his lips against Dan’s in a child’s attempt at a kiss. It’s messy, amateurish and Dan hasn‘t been kissed this way since middle school. Caught off of his guard, Dan doesn’t respond at first, but grasps at Rorschach’s trench coat and holds his lips slack, neither reciprocating or rejecting his advance. His hands clench a little when Rorschach engages him more insistently and attempts to use his tongue, sliding it experimentally over Dan’s palate. Rorschach strokes Dan’s lips with his own before pulling away and tugging his mask back down.

Rorschach continues his train of thought as if he hadn‘t just been kissing his partner, “It is that bad, Daniel. Think about you. Dirty thoughts, wrong thoughts. No better than filth.” His voice comes out a bit rougher than before, like barking out the words takes a huge amount of effort. He drops his hands into fists at his sides. “Better that you go home alone.”

“Rorschach - ” Dan can’t decide if his partner is shaking from fear, anger or something else entirely.

“Those ideas are very bad. Related urges even worse. Better not be contagious. Go home, Daniel.”

“Oh - _oh._ Has . . . was, uhm.” Rorschach looks at him blandly. Dan hopes that means he’s listening. “You don’t do that very often, do you.” Not to say it was _bad_ or anything, but yeah. Rorschach kisses like an overexcited teenager, like he may explode if he doesn’t get it out.

Rorschach shifts on his feet. He grumbles, his voice quiet. Dan strains himself to hear, “first time for everything, Daniel.”

“You’ve . . . oh, God. Rorschach. No wonder you’re . . . “

“Going now.” Rorschach is turning away, tugging the brim of his hat down over his hidden brow and then Dan shoots out a hand and grasps his jacket, drags him forward and returns the kiss. Dan misses his mark by an inch and catches the side of Rorschach’s mouth through the mask, lips gentle against the ever-shifting pattern.

Rorschach groans into it, whines. Shakes. Opens his mouth inside the fabric and just _strokes_ Dan’s mouth with his own. His hands clutch at Dan’s shoulders, bury themselves in his cape for a moment before he pushes his friend aside and turns away, breathing hard and growling low in his throat.

“This violent frustration you’ve been dealing with - it’s just going to get worse if you don’t get some sexual-” Rorschach flinches at the word, “-release soon. This will help you, I promise.”

“Don’t need help. Nnng. . . justice makes the urges bearable.”

“No it doesn’t! It’s science, Rorschach!” Daniel starts building his case, gesticulating strongly. “Your testosterone levels must be off the charts, violence is only a temporary solution that promotes a higher level of aggression - of testosterone, and then if you don‘t ever indulge in a little release . . . God Rorschach, do you ever masturbate?”

The stupidity of the statement overwhelms Daniel. He imagines Rorschach, dealing with a permanent case of blue balls, waking up in the morning with come-stained shorts as a result and it all makes a sick sort of sense. He doesn‘t even need to hear Rorschach‘s answer. “That’s . . . that’s just _stupid._ What are you doing to yourself? Why deny the most basic, intrinsic human urge of them all?”

“D-Daniel. It’s wrong.”

“The Hell, what could possible have convinced you . . . God. _Rorschach._ ” It makes Dan want to throw a punch, smash the skull of whoever made Rorschach feel this way into a wall, but that would be impossible and why - why the hell does a kiss make Rorschach shake like that?

“Just . . . just let me help you out here. It doesn’t have to be wrong. Let me show you.” He runs a hand down Rorschach’s arm and the man _twitches,_ but he doesn’t pull away. Dan takes it as a good sign and cups Rorschach’s face in one hand and leans in for another chaste kiss from his partner’s monochromatic lips.

When Rorschach moans, Dan know he’s on the right track. But damn it, they’re in public and what the hell does he think he’s doing? Rorschach obviously has the same thought. He grips one of Dan’s hands and mutters, “Not such a good idea after all, Daniel. Don’t want this. Just go home.” But Dan doesn’t wish to concede so easily. He looks around - spots a recessed doorway and pulls Rorschach into it. He pushes Rorschach until his back thumps against the red door and crowds him, holding him in place with his body. At least it will offer relative privacy compared to the abandoned alley.

Daniel sighs heavily. “You may not want this, but trust me when I say you need it.” Rorschach turns his head, turns his body away from Dan, who thinks to himself, _he still wants to be convinced,_ and plants both hands on Rorschach’s shoulders, pinning him against the door, forcing him to submit. He lets out a startled grunt and attempts a weak push at Dan. “Just, just let me do this for you, alright?” Dan kisses that mask again, finds and briefly sucks at Rorschach’s lower lip through the mask.

Rorschach moans again, melts against his friend and Dan takes advantage. “Ennk. . . _Daniel_.” He cups Rorschach through his soft, purple trousers, stroking his palm over the budding erection firmly. Dan presses his body even closer, leaving no room between them for questions.

It doesn’t surprise Rorschach; Daniel has always been forward, very direct in all matters both personal and professional. He clumsily attempts to reciprocate, his hands clutching Dan’s waist like a drowning man - his mouth muttering groans against Dan’s jaw in a mockery of a lover’s sweet nothings.

There’s an emotion spiking in Rorschach’s chest that he can’t identify - doesn’t _want_ to identify. Dan removes his scarf, bites the side of his neck. Rorschach jerks, pants and Dan can feel his chest heaving for air, feel his heart beating desperately inside of his ribs. Dan hooks his thumbs under the edge of Rorschach’s mask and raises it a little, pushes it up to rest on the bridge of Rorschach’s nose. “Can you breathe easier now?”

A husky chuckle, “could breathe easier if you weren’t leaning on me,” but Dan knows that trick. Now that he can see his target, he presses his lips against Rorschach’s, pulls back at the bite Rorschach gives him. Rorschach mutters his apology.

“It‘s okay. Whatever you do is okay.” His hand is moving over the front of Rorschach’s trousers, freeing the button and pulling down the zip. Rorschach sucks in his breath at the first glancing touch of Dan’s knuckles against his erection.

“ - please,” squeezed out from between clenched jaws - encouraging, begging for and rejecting his advances.

Dan gently parts the fly of his pants and slips his hand against Rorschach‘s lightly haired belly, slides under the waistband of his underwear. “You really need to relax. This’ll help, I promise.”

“No. _No._ ” Daniel’s hand wraps around Rorschach’s bare erection and he feels it twitch in his grip like a nervous animal. There is a copious amount of pre-come making his hand slick, and it’s obvious that Rorschach is close to orgasm - so close already and Dan has hardly worked for it. Rorschach’s hands grip Dan’s wrist tightly.

“D-daniel. Nng.” He shudders violently, holds Dan’s hand tighter to his erection and thrusts against it. He groans, lets out a noise like a crow’s death rattle and slumps against his partner, breathing hard through his gaping mouth. Dan rubs him a moment longer - strokes him through his orgasm.

“Feels better, right?”

“Sorry, sorry Daniel. Didn’t mean to . . . sorry.”

Dan withdraws his come covered hand and covertly wipes it on the inside of his cape. “Didn’t mean to what? God, you can’t do this life thing alone, Rorschach. We, _people_ , aren’t meant for that sort of solitary existence. Everyone needs a helping hand every once in a while, even you.” He gifts Rorschach with a benevolent smile and rests their foreheads together.

Rorschach seems to choke. He pushes his balled fists against Dan’s chest. “Kk - ” he hiccups, and if it was anyone but Rorschach, Dan would be sure he was crying. “You’re a good friend, Daniel.”

“You’re a good friend, too. Now, um. Would you mind lending me a hand?” He gently removes one of Rorschach’s hands from his chest and places it flat against the front of his pants, rubbing his fingers against Rorschach’s gloved knuckles in encouragement.

“You’re aroused.” Rorschach sounds as if he’s accusing Dan of a crime. His palm is motionless over Dan’s erection.

“Uhm, It’d be pretty difficult for me not to be.”

“You _liked_ touching me.” He squeezes just enough for it to be tangible.

“Y-yeah, I - oh. Keep going.” He releases the latch on his belt and tugs his pants down far enough that he can let his cock out. Rorschach seems surprised at that, and he looks at Dan’s prick like he’s never seen one before in his life . . . and then he grips the base and strokes upwards, firmly. Nothing more, nothing less that what Dan expects from his partner. It’s almost enough.

He wants to say “put it in your mouth,” but instead, he rubs a thumb over Rorschach’s wide lips and imagines them stretched wider by his prick. Imagines that face, that mask, between his thighs. He does not have to imagine the sounds; Rorschach is gasping, humming as he pulls on Dan’s prick. He’s always made such odd noises. Strange how Dan finds them arousing in this context.

“Hnnk. Dan-Daniel. Come now.” Dan shakes his head, pets those lips and thrusts into Rorschach’s firm grip. He’s too far gone - stroking Rorschach off had brought him almost to the edge, and now to feel those leather hands moving over his length, sure and firm and anything but hesitant, with Rorschach’s breath in his ear. . .

“Nite Owl - come for me.”

And then it‘s enough. He cries out, arches his back and shoots over the palm of Rorschach’s glove. Daniel pants, leaning most of his body weight on Rorschach and the door. He lazily sucks at Rorschach’s jaw, his neck. His partner makes a displeased noise and Dan becomes aware of the fact that Rorschach is rubbing his soiled glove off on Dan’s pants. Well, shit.

Daniel can’t help but laugh. He ducks in to give Rorschach a real kiss, but Rorschach turns his head and grunts. “Not faggots, Daniel.” Rorschach is pulling his mask down over a grimace, his expression once more unreadable. He rescues his scarf from the ground and wraps it around his neck to hide the pink skin his mask can’t conceal before doing up his pants.

“I . . . well, that’s true. I normally don’t do this sort of thing with men. It’s just you, I just like you Rorschach.” Rorschach stares at him for a moment before violently shoving him off with a strength Dan never expected to be directed at him. And then he’s off like a shot, running in the opposite direction of the owlship.

Daniel looks down at his own hands, and then up at the brightening sky. Dawn is breaking. It must be time to head home.  



End file.
